


Postcards

by Awkward1



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Ficlet, Illinois is cold in Winter, Its been a long time since I rode the L, M/M, MICKEY IS A TREASURE, Sad feelings, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:05:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9653249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward1/pseuds/Awkward1
Summary: The first postcard was a picture of a sunrise over a beach. No words, no initials, just a postmark from some town in Mexico Ian had never heard of.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about this. Not sure if I'm going to continue it or if it is just going to remain the shortest ficlet ever. Might be a fun series to work on but for now I just needed to put this someplace.

The first postcard was a picture of a sunrise over a beach. No words, no initials, just a postmark from some town in Mexico Ian had never heard of.

Fiona must have left it on the kitchen counter with a pile of random mail Ian still had delivered to the house. He had been flipping through the stack with one hand, eating a folded pancake with the other, while he waited for Liam to come down to get a ride to school. Invoice from the clinic, cell phone bill, random advertisement from an appliance store, and a postcard addressed to Ian Gallagher.

Ian stared at the orange glow reflecting off of the ocean waves printed on glossy cardstock until he heard small feet shuffling down the steps. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and carefully slid the card into the front pocket of his uniform shirt.


	2. Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stood in silence listening to the distant sound of traffic and the quiet rush of the waves in the distance. Maybe, somewhere, he was doing the same thing. Maybe they were both watching the sun rise over the water that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I tripped and fell over my feelings. (Don't think about the time zones too much)

Ian kept the postcard in his pocket for one shift. Then, he realized the incidence of bodily fluids ending up on his clothes was too frequent and he started to carry the postcard in his duffle bag between the pages of a notebook so it wouldn't get bent or end up as a biohazard. The notebook was his psychologists idea. She had him keep a journal of his days and moods. On bad days he found himself watching the still waves as if waiting for something to appear. A sign, writing, invisible ink...anything more than a picture of an eternal sunrise sent from hundreds of miles away.

Some mornings, when he managed to get a run in between shifts and falling into bed, he found himself wishing he had an address or a number he could send an image back to. He had a few photos saved to his phone, one of a crystal clear winter morning breaking above the city skyline that he took before he remembered he couldn't send it to him. 

Ian referred to him only as Him now in his mind. No one in the family mentioned him anymore. He wasn't sure if Lip had told everyone to avoid the subject or if everyone was just preoccupied with their own lives, but no one had mentioned his name, in Ian’s pretense at least, since the funeral.

It's easier if he doesn't think about his name.

Six weeks after the first postcard, another one shows up. This time, Debbie is at the house when he stops by. She nodded toward the living room, “You got some mail.” She gestured to the table by the window with the spoon she had been using to eat cereal.

Ian, thinking it was just the regular detritus that is sent US Bulk, grabbed the stack and started to flip through it. Stuck between a trial gym membership offer and another medical bill, there it was. Another slim, inconspicuous piece of cardstock. This time of an empty wooden pier running out along the ocean with the sun rising above the waves just to the edge of the image. It looked peaceful. Ian fought a lump in his throat.

“You ok?” Debbie asked, peering at him from the kitchen. 

Ian blinked quickly a few times, swallowed hard, and looked up hoping the grin on his face didn't look too forced. 

“Yeah, I'm ok.”

Debbie narrowed her eyes at him but went back to eating her cereal. Ian slipped the card into his duffle bag after she ran upstairs for something. 

The next morning, on his day off, he went out before the sun was up to go for a run. Instead he ended up on the Red Line. He rode for awhile staring out the windows until he hopped off at Cermak and headed toward the lake. 

The sun was just coming up. The dove gray of dawn turning into the cold pink blush of a new morning as his breath fogged around his face when he exhaled. The cold air coming off of the lake was frigid enough to send prickles of ice into his lungs and throats with every breath. 

He stood in silence listening to the distant sound of traffic and the quiet rush of the waves in the distance. Maybe, somewhere, he was doing the same thing. Maybe they were both watching the sun rise over the water that morning. 

After another moment, he slid his phone out of his sweatpants pocket and snapped a picture of the ever changing sky.


End file.
